On the 3rd August, 1914, I received a message from Washington in the Departmental code, telling me that war with England was inevitable and that I was to sail on the first boat and take up my duties in London in full control of the British Department. I was overjoyed with the news and I know that men like Stohwasser, Wesser, and other men of my Department, looked at me with envy. They did not think they had an easy task because the American Secret Service is a very competent one; but they thought I was a lucky pig--as indeed I was--to be operating in a country containing a population of forty millions, most of whom, as one of their writers said, were fools. The English are, of course, a very thick-headed people, as I have reason to know. They are childish and unsuspecting, and you have only to ask for valuable information to get it. The Scotch, or Scots, are shrewder in business, but very simple people, practically ignorant, as are the English, of European politics, and very naïve in all matters affecting the State. Moreover, as I have discovered on several of my visits, the Scots are not particularly well disposed to their southern neighbours, and I have heard many insulting references made by one against the other. It is quite a common thing to hear the expressions of scorn as a “close-fisted Scot” or “a pudding-headed Englishman,” whilst in Wales neither the Scots nor the English are popular. Ireland, of course, was in a constant condition of rebellion, and I looked forward with great pleasure to witnessing and inflaming the little domestic quarrels which I knew would arise as soon as war broke out. I landed at Liverpool on August 11th. My passport was in order and I immediately went forward to London. There was no trace of any excitement. I saw a lot of soldiers on their way to their depôts; and arriving in London, I immediately received the reports of our innumerable agents. With what pride did I contemplate the splendid smoothness of our system! When the Emperor pressed the button marked “Mobilise,” he called, in addition to his soldiers, a thousand gallant hearts and brilliant minds in a score of countries all eager and happy to work for the aggrandisement of our beloved Fatherland. Six of us met at a fashionable restaurant near Trafalgar Square. There were Emil Stein, who called himself Robinson, Karl Besser--I need not give all their aliases--Heine von Wetzl, Fritz von Kahn and Alexander Koos. Stein had arrived from Holland the night before and Fritz von Kahn had come down from Glasgow where he had been acting as a hotel porter. These men were, as I say, known to me, and to one another, but there were thousands of unknowns who had their secret instructions, which were only to be opened in case of war, and with whom we had to get in touch.